


Confusion

by Badam_Luumsss



Series: One shots [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fights, Light Angst, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21500821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badam_Luumsss/pseuds/Badam_Luumsss
Summary: After Ginny kisses Harry in front of the whole Gryffindor House in sixth year, Harry is confused, Ron is angry and everything goes sideways.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Series: One shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696141
Comments: 2
Kudos: 275





	Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone !
> 
> This is the first fanfic I ever posted so please be indulgent :)
> 
> It's not even my usual pairing (I'm more of a Drarry fan) but it's just something that popped in my head a few days ago and I felt it would be a good way to get started in the fanfic wolrd !
> 
> Thank you for your time and I hope you'll enjoy this little thing!
> 
> Xoxo
> 
> Lums

**Confusion**

He hesitated outside the crowded Great Hall, then ran up the marble staircase; whether Gryffindor had won or lost, the team usually celebrated or commiserated in their own common room.

“Quid agis?” he said tentatively to the Fat Lady, wondering what he would find inside. Her expression was unreadable as she replied, “You’ll see.” And she swung forward.

A roar of celebration erupted from the hole behind her. Harry gaped as people began to scream at the sight of him; several hands pulled him into the room. “We won!” yelled Ron, bounding into sight and brandishing the silver Cup at Harry.

“We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!”

Harry looked around; there was Ginny running toward him; she had a hard, blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, she kissed him.

Shell-shocked, Harry froze, his eyes wide-opened, then carefully withdrew from the kiss. The room had gone very quiet. Then several people wolf-whistled and there was an outbreak of nervous giggling.

He avoided Ginny puzzled look and felt a raging blush bloom on his face. Harry looked over the top of Ginny’s head to see Dean Thomas holding a shattered glass in his hand, and Romilda Vane looking as though she might throw something. Hermione was beaming, but Harry’s eyes sought Ron. At last he found him, still clutching the Cup and wearing an expression appropriate to having been clubbed over the head. For a fraction of a second they looked at each other, then an angry rictus tore Ron’s features. He let go of the cup, which fell down with a loud ‘clang!’ then cut through the crowd and stormed out of the Common room, almost brushing Harry on the way without a glance back.

“Ron…” tried Harry feebly but the redhead was already gone.

Panic started to rise in his chest. He whipped around and ran behind his best friend in the empty corridors. He heard the bang of a door nearby and followed the sound. It was an old unused classroom.

Harry hesitated for a moment in front of the door then took a deep breath and entered the room. Ron was fuming, pacing the room like a caged lion, his blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space.

“Ron… I’m sorry about Ginny…” he paused “I didn’t… It wasn’t...” Harry struggled to explain.

The tall redhead turned around and faced him, incandescent with rage, pale as death, his freckles contrasting with his pale skin.

“She’s my sister!!” Ron bellowed “How could you… How…?” He stepped in his direction menacingly and Harry stumbled backwards until his back reached the hard, cold stone.

“I know, I’m sorry, I never wanted that… She just…”

“My sister!!!” he glared at Harry, the cerulean orbs like daggers “My bloody sister!!! You had no right… You... You…” Ron rubbed his face frustratedly and growled. Harry swallowed tightly, emotion choking him. The tall Keeper was close, so close Harry could see the base of his dark lashes, the silver specks in those deep blue eyes. The Seeker could read burning anger but also betrayal and pain in the unforgiving pools of blue.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I swear” Harry pleaded.

“I can’t believe you did that… You were supposed to… You…” he trailed off.

“Supposed to what? Ron?”

But Ron had closed his eyes shut and didn’t answer, his face painted with anguish.

“Ron? Please, just say something… I swear I didn’t want that to happen… I don’t feel like that about her. You have to believe me” Harry almost murmured. “She kissed me and I just didn’t know what to do I-“

“Shut up! Just shut up!” The tall redhead clutched Harry’s front robes and the dark-haired boy thought he was going to punch him. He shut his eyes tight, waiting for the blow but started when he crashed his lips on his instead. He forced his mouth on Harry’s, pouring all his frustration, all his anger and hurt in the kiss. And after a moment of complete shock, Harry answered breathlessly. Both of the tall redhead’s hands clutched his hair forcefully and blocked his head while he ravaged his mouth vehemently. They were both gasping and panting.

After a long moment, Ron retreated a few inches back to get some air. Harry, dazed and blissfully lost stood there, his lips tingling and his breath short.

“What was that for…?” He barely managed whispering.

“Just shut up, shut up, shut up” chanted Ron desperately as he trailed a series of open kisses on Harry’s neck, making his blood boil in his veins. Impatient, his pace through the roof, Harry claimed back his mouth fiercely. He caressed the full lips with his tongue, demanding entry. Ron obeyed and parted his lips, and then they were lost in a sensual ballet of slicked tongues gliding and sliding against each other. Harry’s hands clutched the hips of his best friend in a bruising grip, hanging on for dear life as overwhelming sensations surged in him and pleasure exploded in his skull. Ron reaffirmed his hold on the jet-black hair, searching deeper in his mouth, his body pinning him on the unforgiving stone. Harry let out a small moan that escaped in Ron’s mouth.

Suddenly, Ron jerked back, panting. His expression was a mixture of confusion and panic, his lust-blown eyes wide-opened in frantic alarm.

“Ron wait…” tried Harry but the mention of his name seemed to be what the redhead needed to regain control of his muscles. In a fraction of second, he was out the door and Harry was alone, breathing hard, aroused and deeply, utterly confused.

* * *

“Ron, we need to talk.” said Harry firmly.

They were in the Dormitory and Harry had finally managed to get a hang on the redhead who had been avoiding him like the plague for days. Harry had lingered in the bathroom, hidden, until Neville, Seamus and Dean got down for breakfast to finally catch him alone.

Ron was forcefully throwing things haphazardly in his bag. Harry knew he hadn’t really slept for the past days; the dormitory had been free of his usual snoring and bluish rings tinged the skin under his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Shot back the tall Keeper hardly, not even looking at him. He was almost at the door when Harry spoke again.

“What am I supposed to do, then? Forget anything happened? What if I don’t want to?” he asked, trying to suppress any note of pleading from his voice.

Ron froze and seemed to hesitate. He looked back, blue eyes filled with fear locking with green hopeful ones.

“I don’t know” he finally said then he left the room and Harry swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat.

* * *

Ron was tossing and turning in his four-poster bed, trying to get the memory of Harry’s lips under his out of his head.

_I’m not gay! I’m not! It was an accident, nothing more!_

Ron sighed and pressed the heels of his wrists against his eye-sockets. The knot in his stomach hadn’t moved for days. Suddenly, Harry’s pained face floated in his mind and he clenched his teeth. He couldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t. But the pain in those impossibly green eyes haunted him. The same way the sensation of the full lips, the feel of this silky and messy hair under his hands, the memory of the hot-slicked tongue and what Harry’s mouth tasted like haunted him.

Ron bit his lip hard, as if he could erase the ghost of those lips against his.

_What am I supposed to do??? Why is this happening to me?_

Someone must have enchanted him; it was the only explanation, right? But the unhelpful part of his brain reminded him how different it felt when he had drunk the love potion. This was different.

_Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck. What am I going to do???_

Burning drops of salty liquid erupted from the corner of his eyes, rolling on his temples and losing themselves in the red hair silently.

* * *

With Ron remaining in a hostile silence towards Harry and Ginny plus Harry’s own discomfort with Ginny, the dark haired boy spent more and more time outside the Gryffindor common room. It allowed him to avoid Hermione questions about what ‘happened when they talked’ and why he was ‘so cold with Ginny’.

Harry had enough unanswered questions of his own and he wasn’t ready to tell anyone about his confusion.

His meals in the Great Hall had become somehow lonelier as well. Dean was as distant and silent towards Harry and Seamus followed his best friend. The dark-haired boy consequently took most of his meals alone and quickly ate before Hermione or Ginny had the chance to corner him.

He wasn’t really hungry anyway these days.

The situation didn’t escape Draco Malfoy who relished in Harry’s apparent isolation and never missed an opportunity to give Harry shit about it. One morning, after the Gryffindor had quickly and painstakingly expedited a meager breakfast down his dry throat, the Slytherin had caught him past the huge gates and started taunting him.

“So Scarhead? The Weasel ditched you, huh? He’s not so thick in the end, is he?” he drawled, very satisfied at Harry’s furious expression.

“Shut up, Malfoy!” he said vehemently, anger licking at his spine.

“Sore spot? You sure look like shit.”

He definitely did. His sleepless nights and gloomy thoughts had deeply marked his face.

Harry and Malfoy took their wands out, the lean blond smirking and Harry fuming. At this moment, Harry saw a shock of red hair appearing in the corridor.

_Merlin’s sake, just what he needed right now!_

Ron drew his wand out too and glared at Malfoy.

“Fuck off, Malfoy!” he growled. With a wider smirk, the Slytherin swaggered away.

“I didn’t need your help!” said Harry more roughly than he had intended.

“Fine.” said Ron blandly and spun around to get to the tall wooden doors.

“Yeah, just go, that’s what you do best!” hissed Harry.

Ron turned around, eyes flashing with fury.

“Fuck you, Harry!” he growled.

“You wish!” shot the dark-haired boy back.

In a second, they were all over each other, punching, choking and kicking with everything they had. Their wands had clattered on the ground and rolled a few meters away. Harry’s punch finally threw Ron on the ground and he straddled him, landing his fists everywhere he could on the face of the redhead. But in a swift motion, Ron overpowered him and started choking him. Harry had lost his glasses somewhere along the brawl and his unfocused green eyes were shooting daggers at the fuzzy face of the tall Gryffindor. His vision got more and more blurry until black and white dots floated around and he finally gave up, losing conscience.

* * *

When he woke up, Harry was in a soft and warm surface, cozily wrapped in a glowing-white lavender-scented blur.

The dark-haired boy knew instantly where he was: the Hospital Wing.

With a moody grunt that made him cough, he clumsily felt around for his glasses and put them on his sore nose. He then assessed the situation he was in. His whole body ached, his throat burned like hell and his mouth was parched as if he hadn’t drank for days. A pounding headache completed the picture.

A familiar dark and disapproving mutter caught his ears and as he turned his head toward the sound, his heart painfully jumped when he saw Mrs. Pomfrey fretting around the opposite bed, occupied by a tall redhead with blue stoical eyes staring in the void. Pomfrey then turned to him and saw he was awake.

“Ah, Mr. Potter, you’re awake at last!” she said with a relieved tone, forgetting to sound annoyed.

Harry made a non-committal gesture between a shrug and a nod that made him wince. Fresh fingers feathered on the abused flesh of his neck and he went rigid.

“Yes, I know, it must hurt a lot.”

“I’m okay” he managed to croak.

The witch looked at him with a mixture of irritation and commiseration then sighed. She raised his wand and chanted a long and complicated spell, a warm sensation then engulfed Harry’s throat and the pain receded a bit.

“There, that should reduce the swelling and the pain a little bit. Now, drink this” she ordered and gave him a glass of a silver-gilt potion that smelled like smoke.

He painfully drank it, the liquid forcing its way down his sensitive throat and easing the pain almost instantly. He suddenly felt giddy and light as a feather. A smile he couldn’t help stretched his bruised lips.

“You might feel euphoria and a distinct urge to giggle, it’s a normal side-effect of the potion” provided Mrs. Pomfrey. “Now stay still, I need to apply the healing balm to your face.”

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. She then started to smear the gooey ointment on his painful skin. A faint smell of sage reached his nostrils and soothed him. He felt relaxed, happy and content and it was a nice change after the past week.

“You’re all set. The bruises and the soreness of your throat should be gone by morning. By then you should be able to go back the Gryffindor tower. This goes for you as well M. Weasley. However, I have to warn you, Mrs. McGonagall wants to see you both as soon as you get out. You should expect a very unpleasant chat. I have to go, I trust you won’t resume your scandalous melee in the Hospital Wing? I’d hate to restrain you” she added with a menacing tone.

Harry, still flying high, promised with a wide smile

“We’ll behave, Mrs. Pomfrey”

She shot him a critical look and went on her way. His eyes followed her until she closed the door behind her.

When he came back to the bed facing him, he saw that Ron had drawn the white curtains. He sighed dispiritedly and fell back on his pillows, staring at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing for what felt like the hundredth time.

* * *

Ron finally managed to fall asleep after hours of struggle that had turned his sheets in a mess of wrinkled fabric.

The quiet rustle of cloth when the curtain opened didn’t draw him awake. But the burning weight suddenly straddling him in his hospital bed sure as hell did. He started and his fogged brain couldn’t provide him with an explanation for where he was and what was happening. He fumbled away for his wand but the mass on his body murmured a “Just relax, it’s me” with Harry’s voice.

Ron froze, uncertain of what to do, still drowsy and heavily confused. But when the hot lips brushed his tentatively, all thoughts drained from his head.

This is what his body had wanted, craved, begged for all this time. This is what his subconscious had screamed for, what his agitated nights had been haunted with.

His rationality forcefully put aside, Ron let his body take over and talk for him, say the words he never could.

He kissed back the hot lips feverishly, breathless and desperate for the touch. The boys joined their tongues delightedly in the dark with little wet sounds and muffled moans. Then their hands wandered, discovering the warm flesh and soft skin.

Harry’s went under the shirt of the redhead uncertainly, waking fire in his trail. The redhead’s breath caught when light fingers caressed his pectoral and nipples, pleasure spiking in his loins. He reciprocated, exploring the tanned skin and rippling muscles under the thin fabric. Harry moaned and arched his back under the touch, his hard cock brushing Ron’s involuntarily.

Ron grunted and spun the dark-haired boy around, pressing him in the mattress under his firm body. He kissed him roughly then devoured the flesh of his neck, sucking bruising kisses and making Harry whimper and arch harder against him.

Slowly, Ron started grinding his hips against Harry’s, biting his shoulder to stifle the sounds of pleasure the delicious friction of their hard shafts elicited in him.

He picked up the pace and Harry moved in rhythm, both clinging to each other desperately as if to keep grounded in the storm of sensations assailing them. They got rid of their shirts and raked hungry eyes on the flesh beforet heir eyes in the dim light of dawn.

Ron fisted Harry’s hair, crashing his mouth on him, grazing his teeth on his lips, sucking his tongue. The dark-haired boy answered in kind, digging his fingers in the back of the Keeper, his hips bucking frantically, low sounds of pleasure half-buried in his throat.

When Ron stopped a moment to gasp some air, Harry’s hand found his way between their bodies and wrapped around the redhead’s throbbing flesh, already wet with precome. Harry stroked him in a painstakingly slow back and forth and a deep moan escaped the other boy’s mouth, his blue pupils wide and hazy. He shuddered and bit the pillow as waves of raw pleasure like rolled over him.

A strong compulsion urged him to touch Harry in the same way, to feel the delicate skin under his fingers. He went under the elastic band of Harry’s pyjamas and his long fingers closed around him. The feeling was amazing. He closed his eyes and let his hand wander, caressing the tight and round flesh underneath, the hard length and the puckered entrance. Harry moaned and halted his strokes abruptly, completely unravelled by the maddening touch. His head fell back on the pillow and he parted his lips while pleasure made him furrow his brows as if he was in pain.

Encouraged and driven half-mad by the Seeker’s noises and his wanton face, Ron pressed the tip of his finger inside the hot channel. Harry’s eyes rolled back and he gripped Ron’s shoulders in a death grip as his finger went deeper inside him, teasing him as the burn of the intrusion slowly faded away, replaced by white-hot pleasure. A second finger joined the first delicately. After a moment, the tight ring of muscles accommodated and relaxed. Ron started scissoring inside and he brushed the bundle of nerves that made Harry cry out and see stars.

The dark-haired boy pushed back, wanting more. He gripped Ron hips and crashed them against his forcefully while arching wantonly against him.

Ron got the message loud and clear, his cock twitching at the thought. He was so hard it was painful. The redhead sat on his heels and slicked his hard length with the spell every teenager knew how to perform.

He watched avidly, the sight of Harry, panting, dazed-eyed, spread out on the bed wantonly with his bronze skin almost glowing under the pale light breaking something in him. A sense of finality overwhelmed him. There was no going back after this.

Harry seemed to pick up on his train of thought when he saw his tortured expression. He kneeled facing him and locked his deep green eyes on Ron’s. He brushed his lips against his and murmured:

“It’s okay, Ron… It’s just… us.”

Ron closed his eyes and kissed him, drowning his doubts, pushing back the thoughts that threatened to crush him. He focused on the feeling of the boy against him, his mouth that fitted so perfectly under his, his warm skin, the familiar smell of smoke and spice mixed with a unique scent that was only his, spicy and woody. This was the only thing that mattered. Them, together, so… right.

Still united by their linked mouth, Ron gently laid Harry back on the pillows, touching him everywhere as if he was trying to map him and engrave him in his memory. He settled between Harry’s parted legs and resumed his long motions against the other boy.

Ron’s blood was roaring in his veins and a thin sheen of sweat covered the two bodies intertwined and moving together. Their muscles were rippling under their skin, the pale freckled one contrasting with the bronze tan of the other.

Harry took their hard lengths in his scorching hand and stroked them together, swallowing the redhead’s moans. He gasped when Ron’s hand moved from his neck to the sensitive flesh between his cheeks, teasing, caressing, pressing against it then breaching in when Harry pushed back against him.

“I want you now” he said in a whisper, his breath feathering on Ron’s neck and making him shiver.

He aligned his sleek cock against the throbbing flesh and hesitated.

“Are you sure you…?” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

“Please…” and Harry’s voice and expression were so wanton, so filled with desire and trust that the redhead forgot his doubts and pushed inside the hot channel with a slow, trembling thrust, trying not to hurt the other boy.

Ron remained perfectly still to let him adjust to the intrusion, the effort almost more than he could bear.

The sensation of the hot muscles tightly wrapped around him was driving him mad with a pleasure so intense he was on the verge of completely losing the plot.

Harry’s breath was ragged but a moment later, he pressed his hips against him, silently demanding he moved again.

Ron obeyed, his back and forth motions slow and gentle. Their moans and cries fused together as their pleasure was building up and up. Ron was still shaking with his internal battle to not let himself savagely pound Harry into the mattress.

He rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, breathing in the heady scent he had never smelled so close before. The Seeker dug his nails in his back, making him groan.

“Harder… harder…” Harry whimpered wantonly, wrapping his legs around Ron’s waist and pressing on his lower back to push him deeper inside.

With an unarticulated cry, Ron picked up the pace of his thrusts and Harry met them eagerly, fervently, always wanting _more-more-more-faster-now_. The green eyes were so wide and blown by pleasure Ron thought he would lose himself inside.

He was close, so close, and aroused like never before, his nerves fried and his skin ablaze. He moved and changed his angle, thrusting even harder in Harry with a low growl, his head falling back.

“Yes! Yes! There, just there!” Harry cried out “Don’t stop, don’t…” he trailed off.

Ron kept going, panting, and watched the other boy come, his face a beautiful mask of abandon and ecstasy, thick ropes of come coating their bellies. His channel contracted around him deliciously hard and Ron came too, pleasure like he had never felt before exploding in his skull, so intense he thought he was going to pass out. He thrust in the other boy frantically, riding out his orgasm with Harry’s name on his lips.

What felt like a million years later, Ron fell on his back on the hospital bed, his breath erratic and short, his heart thumping on his ribcage. He was half-conscious and his eyes were closed, he felt Harry’s cleaning spell then the dark-haired boy sat back on the bed and looked around hesitantly.

Without opening his eyes or saying any word, Ron tugged at his arm and made him lay back on his side against him. He then wrapped himself around him, his arm resting possessively on the narrow waist. He nuzzled his nose his Harry’s crook of the neck and sighed contentedly. Ron felt Harry relax and let himself drown in a sated and warm drowsiness.

Mrs Pomfrey would freak out when she’d come in the morning. But he couldn’t care less. For the first time in his life, Ron felt like he was exactly were he was supposed to be. And it was the only thing that mattered right now. The rest could wait.


End file.
